


smudged

by necrosisjones



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, inappropriate use of The Derelict's waiting room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrosisjones/pseuds/necrosisjones
Summary: “Don’t get any nasty ideas,” Drifter chuckles. “The match has just begun.”Shin closes the distance between them in a flash, sparks dancing in his eyes as he smirks. He’s eager.Hungry.“Thought you’ve already noticed,” he licks his lips, hands clutching Drifter’s belt buckle when he pulls the man closer, “that I’m not a very patient man.”
Relationships: The Drifter/Shin Malphur
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	smudged

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what inspired this work and I have no idea why I wrote Shin like he listens to Britney's "Toxic" on repeat but enjoy!

When things get bad, he comes crawling back home. It just so happens that the only place he can call home now is a dilapidated ship and a pair of arms no sane person would want to be embraced by. But Shin isn’t a sane man. Not anymore. Hasn’t been for decades now. Perhaps it’s a fitting fate for him.

The Derelict is as cold as always, Shin’s exhale turning into a thick cloud of fog when his boots finally touch the ground. Static is still lingering in the air after a freshly-fired transmat, its lamps radiating heat as he crosses over them.

Drifter doesn’t seem too surprised by him when he turns to greet him, resting his hip against the railing. “Back so soon?” Drifter asks with his usual grin. “I was expectin’ you much later.”

“I like keeping you on your toes.”

Drifter scoffs, facing away from him with a shake of his head. “Yeah, that much I know, Malphur.”

Shin returns his gun to the hoster and throws his cape over a nearby crate. His eyes stray to the transmat for a moment as he bites his lower lip, pondering, _calculating_.

“Don’t get any nasty ideas,” Drifter chuckles. “The match has just begun.”

Shin closes the distance between them in a flash, sparks dancing in his eyes as he smirks. He’s eager. _Hungry_.

“Thought you’ve already noticed,” he licks his lips, hands clutching Drifter’s belt buckle when he pulls the man closer, “that I’m not a very patient man.”

**X**

Drifter has never understood the reason Shin would bother with something as trivial as wearing makeup. Up until now. _Pretty_ is a word he tries to avoid when it comes to Shin, but there’s not other way to think about him when his eyeliner runs down his face in dark streams as the Hunter forces himself further down Drifter’s cock. _Pretty_ is a word that keeps echoing in his mind whenever he looks down.

Commenting on the match has become nearly impossible. Drifter can only hope that the Vex explosions are enough to cover up how much his voice his breaking. He would shut up completely — and oh, how much he wishes he could — if the leading team didn’t deserve praise. They break through rows of Goblins, without realizing that the mobs are a little too numerous, filling the bank up rapidly. In any other case, Drifter would be proud to have such ambitious players, but right now, they’re nothing but a nuisance.

His knees are beginning to give in. He has to reach for the railing.

“What’s gotten into you today?” Drifter huffs.

Shin pulls Drifter’s cock out of his mouth just for long enough to answer, “Let’s say I missed you,” and he’s back to where he left off.

“I’m havin’ a hard time believin’ that — _fuck!_ — but I ain’t complainin’.”

Drifter is still thinking consciously enough to realize that it’s a distraction; whether it’s supposed to distract him or Shin himself remains a mystery though. Drifter won’t ask — not now, at least — but he’d lie if he said that he’s not curious as to what requires _this_ much distraction.

But he has no time for any considerations. Shin palms graps onto Drifter’s thighs, shifting even closer with a pitiful whimper. For a moment it seems as if Shin needs Drifter more than Drifter needs him, to satisfy this overwhelming desire burning inside him. Drifter is a generous man, when it’s profitable, and right now it’s nothing but. He’ll gladly stoke that fire.

He pushes his free hand — the one that’s not holding onto the railing like a lifeline — into Shin’s hair, grabbing a handful of black locks. When there is no objection, not even a grunt of disapproval, he pushes Shin onto his cock, until the Hunter’s nose touches his abdomen.

Drifter blurts out a string of curses as Shin’s throat closes around him. He’s balancing on edge, has been for a while now, and it seems as though Shin is about to give him the most pleasant shove possible.

He lets go off the Hunter, who backs away with a cough, gasping for air. But Shin doesn’t complain. He never does. He’s back to work in a second, running his tongue along the entire length, before his lips once again close around the tip, one hand squeezing the base. When he gives him a light suck, Drifter’s knees buckle.

“You tryin’ to suck the Light out of me?” Drifter growls. “You’re a menace today.”

Shin can only snort, his mouth once again fully occupied as bobs his head, sliding up and down Drifter’s cock, slick with spit and precum.

The leading team banks the last of their motes, the siren ringing in Drifter’s ears. He knows that the Primeval will only buy them a few more minutes, but that’s not really a problem — he won’t last much longer anyway. Not when Shin is looking at him like _that_ from underneath the curtain of his long eyelashes, makeup smudged, flushed cheeks hollowing.

It takes all of his willpower not to grab Shin by his hair again, not to shove his cock as far as he can down that wonderfully hot throat. Instead, his hand finds Shin on his thigh and holds onto his wrist.

Shin flinches, surprised by the unexpected touch, his eyebrows furrowing as he searches for an answer, but the only thing he sees is Drifter’s chest heaving as he nears the orgasm.

“Yeah,” Drifter mumbles. “Yeah, keep going, hotshot.”

Encouraged by his words, Shin frees his wrist and instead wraps his arms around Drifter’s waist, swallowing him whole once again.

“Fuck, Shin, I—” Drifter lets out a strangled whine, his knuckles turning pale when he clenches his fists. Without a proper warning, he comes inside Shin’s mouth.

But Shin’s not finished. Not just yet. He continues sucking until Drifter shudders, bending down, breathless, to push him away. “Enough,” Drifter pleads.

Shin draws back, his tongue sliding along Drifter’s softening cock one last time and sits on his heels, licking his lips.

He looks awfully pleased with himself. If Drifter wasn’t so spent, he’d gladly wipe that damn smirk off his face. Instead — knowing that this, too, will get rid of Shin’s cocky expression — he offers his hand to the Hunter. Shin takes it, only a little surprised, and gets back on his feet the second one of the teams kills their Primeval. “Didn’t take you for a gentlem—”

“Get the fuck out of this room before they see you.” Drifter interrupts, pointing at the door with his chin.

Shin chuckles, shaking his head, dried eyeliner cracking on his cheeks as a smile stretches his face and collects his cape, draped over a crate by the wall.

He’s passing the threshold as the transmat lights begin to flash in preparation to bring the players back in. “Finish that round quickly,” he says, sparing Drifter one last glance. “I won’t wait all night.”


End file.
